It Didn't Last
by SpicySugar
Summary: AFTER HOGWARTS: Most everyone that we know and love from the HP series is living a typical life. But when a mystery arises, and the authorities do nothing about it, it is up to Ron and Hermione to figure it out. Rated for language and implied violence.
1. Default Chapter

AN: Hello all! This idea to type this just sort of came to me one day, so I just kinda typed it up, considered it worthy to be put on the site, and did so. Read and enjoy! (And review, too!) And no, although it may sort of seem like it (I realized this after re-reading it), Ron IS NOT gay. There is NO slash and NO incest in this story.

Summary: AFTER HOGWARTS: Most everyone that we know and love from the HP series is living a typical life. But when a mystery arises and the authorities do nothing about it, it is up to Ron and Hermione to figure it out. Rated for language and implied violence.

xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx

For what seemed like the millionth time that day, Ginny found herself momentarily blinded by a camera flash. Her fake, Barbie-like smile disappeared instantly after the shutter of the camera closed, and she sighed and slouched away from the bright white background. Some days, like today, being a model for _Witch Weekly_ was terribly tiring, especially since they had started this "muggle clothing" fad that past spring. Rather than the normal three-outfit, three-hour day that fit her schedule very conveniently, today was much more involved.

"It's Saturday! You know what that means!" her manager had said cheerfully at 10:30 that morning. Ginny had groaned.

"Yes, I know, two more outfits that usual," she had glumly replied. As it turned out, instead of five outfits today, she had seven. _Seven!_ It was outrageous. Never, in the history of her modeling career, had she had to do seven outfits in one day. Sure, other models did it, but not her. She had specifically requested a light schedule. But today . . . today she had even rushed her photographer, and she still spent six and a half hours there, and ended up stuck with what she thought were less-than-perfect shots. But at the moment, as she slipped into her dressing room, she figured that she didn't much care.

She glanced into the mirror that covered the left wall of her dressing room at her last outfit today. Because it was nearing December, she had been modeling in mostly black lately. This particular outfit she was rather impressed with. It was a long, black, off-the-shoulder dress that had one side, the left, touching the floor, and then slanting up until the right side stopped at her knees. It had a silver, glitter edge around the bottom and had a large flower outlined in silver in the bottom left corner. With matching black gloves that came up about six inches above her elbows and sleek, black, tight leather boots that came up about five inches above her ankles, it made the overall appearance of the outfit very elegant. Of course, the selling price was around 150 galleons, so not many "average" people would be buying this particular outfit.

She sighed as she thought back to who she used to be, only five years ago, when she was just a simple, poor, school girl in an family of seven children in her graduating year. Now, at age 22, she was a model, and the exact opposite of "poor." Rich, wealthy, however you wanted to put it, she had money to blow. However, despite this wealth and her current feeling of extreme tiredness, she was greatly looking forward to dinner later with her youngest brother, Ron. She was supposed to meet him at 7:00 in (believe it or not) Hogsmeade – the Three Broomsticks to be exact – for a casual, reminiscent dinner of their school years. She hadn't been to Hogsmeade since her seventh year at Hogwarts, and she found herself feeling like a giddy school girl again as she changed out the black dress and into casual clothes. She liked to think of them as her "just-got-back-from-the-gym" clothes. A pair of black warm-up pants plus a matching black shirt and a white, zip-up hoodie made her look like she had just gotten done working out at a gym and was heading home for a nice, hot shower; and at the moment, the latter of the two actually correct. She tossed the black dress in the dry-cleaning hamper and then stepped out of her dressing room. She was stopped on her way to the lobby, however, by her photographer.

"Ginny, you were great today! I realize that you had to go through seven outfits, but the pictures are fabulous nonetheless!"

"Why, thank you, Jonathan, that's very flattering," said Ginny with a smile.

"As a matter of fact, I just talked with your manager, and that last dress you were wearing is going to be on the cover of January's issue!" said Jonathan excitedly.

"The – the cover?" repeated Ginny. She was rich, yes, and she was a model, yes, but she had never been on the cover yet in her career, _never_. This could be her big break! Now everyone would know who Ginny Weasley was!

"Yes, ma'am, the cover of _Witch Weekly_," Jonathan was babbling on. "Teenage and older witches alike all over the countryside will be looking at that issue and saying, 'Wow, I wish I could be just like her.'"

"This is great, Jon. I wish I could stay and talk about it, but I have a dinner appointment with my brother this evening, and I really should be going," said Ginny, checking her watch. It was 5:30.

"Not a problem, Ginny. I'll see you on Monday." Ginny gave him a nod and apparated to her rather large house. Once inside, she immediately headed upstairs for a shower.

xXx

Ron hummed tunelessly as he walked around his flat. It was 5:30, and in an hour and half, he would be seeing his sister. He hadn't seen her for several months, and contrary to many people's assumptions (aside from those who knew him well), he loved his sister dearly. Although, he didn't much approve of this boyfriend she had. Maybe it was just his brotherly over-protectiveness, or maybe it was the fact that her boyfriend was a muggle, but Ron just didn't like him. He thought that Ginny deserved someone much better than that. He felt his heart wrench.

Someone like Harry.

It brought tears to his eyes to think of his lost friend. Shortly after Harry turned 18, after he had defeated Voldemort, he had been found dead in his flat. It was clear to the investigators that he had been tortured to death. A year later, they pinned the act on several ex-Death Eaters that were raving lunatics, wanting revenge for their master's sake.

Ron tried to gain control of himself as he felt tears rolling down his face. It was silly . . . it have been five years since he had found out. _Five years._ He shouldn't still be this upset over it. He should have moved on by now, but every time he thought about even the slightest reminder of Harry, his eyes welled up with tears. Ron smiled slightly, however, when he thought of the first time he ever met Harry.

"_Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out._

_Harry nodded._

"_Oh – well, I just thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got – you know . . ."_

_He pointed at Harry's forehead._

_Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared._

"_So that's where You-Know-Who --?"_

"_Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."_

"_Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.  
_

"_Well, I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."_

"_Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he quickly looked out of the window again._

Ron nearly laughed out loud at how he had marveled at Harry back then, twelve years ago, but within a week, it became completely normal to have the world's most famous wizard as your best friend. He took a few deep breaths, then, satisfied that he was totally composed, decided to go outside for an afternoon walk to clear his thoughts.

xXx

Ginny arrived in Hogsmeade dressed casually, so as not to draw attention to herself, and entered the Three Broomsticks a little earlier than planned. Because she was fifteen minutes early, she sat down at the bar to char with Madame Rosmerta. However, she had barely started up conversation when the door to the bar opened, letting in both cold air and a person that Ginny vaguely recognized, but couldn't quite place as to who it was. She stared at him for a moment before turning back around to Madame Rosmerta and had her mouth through saying "Anyway" when she heard her name being called.

"Ginny?" came the male voice. She again turned around to see the man that had walked in the door.

"Yes?" she asked hesitantly.

"Don't you remember me?" he asked.

"Sort of, but not really. Refresh my memory."

"It's me, Neville, from school!" he said, and then Ginny was able to see the similarities between the forgetful schoolboy and the grown man that stood in front of her.

"Oh, Neville! It's so good to see you, how've you been?"

"I've been great, and apparently you have, too," he stated

"How would you know?" she teased.

"Well, my girlfriend reads _Witch Weekly_, and she saw you in one of the pictures and asked me if it was that "little red-headed friend of mine" from school. I told her it was you. She sort of stared at it for a minute and then tore it out of the magazine and gave it to me, said I could keep it. She said she didn't like the outfit. So, to please her, I put it in my pocket, but never took it out. I just discovered it there today when I arrived in Hogsmeade. How strange that I would see you the same day!" he remarked. He then paused for a second or two. "This _is_ you, right?" he asked hesitantly, pulling out a folded magazine page from his pocket and showing it to her. Ginny recognized it as being from the July issue, and she blushed. She was wearing a pink halter top, a denim mini skirt, and matching pink flip-flops. It was a rather _revealing_ outfit in her opinion, and not the best for someone like Neville to be recognizing her in.

"Yeah, that's me all right," she spoke in a shaky voice. "I'm, uh, I'm not exactly _fond_ of that picture."

"It's okay, I can understand why," he said. "So, what brings someone like yourself to Hogsmeade today?"

"Oh, I'm having dinner with Ron, he should be here soon," Ginny responded.

"Your brother Ron?"

"Yes, that's the only Ron I know after all," said Ginny with a laugh. She heard the door open yet again and turned to see who it was.

"Ron!" she said excitedly. "Please excuse me, Neville," she said, and jumped off of the barstool to greet the red-headed man that walked in. She gave him a rather large hug.

"It's good to see you too, Ginny, now, if you don't mind, I'm having a bit of trouble _breathing_ . . ." came Ron's struggled reply.

"Oh, sorry," said Ginny, hurriedly letting go of him. "So, how have you been?"

"The same as I was when you last saw me, just fine," he replied. "How about you?"

"The same. Oh, and guess who blew in?"

"'Blew in'?" asked a bewildered Ron.

"Okay, guess who _showed up_?"

"I have absolutely no idea, who?"

"Neville!"

"Longbottom?" asked Ron. Ginny nodded. "Really? I haven't seen him since the Christmas party last year!" he exclaimed. "Where is he?"

"Just over there, by the bar," Ginny pointed him out and Ron strolled over to him. They met each other with a rowdy greeting and Ginny just rolled her eyes.

"Boys . . ." she muttered to herself, and slipped over to an empty table. Madame Rosmerta came over to her when she saw Ginny sitting alone.

"Can I get you something to drink while you're waiting for your brother?" she asked with a smile.

"Sure, can I have a butterbeer please?"

"Certainly, I'll be right, and I'll try to get Ron over here to keep you company."

"Thanks," said Ginny, and she smiled. She watched Madame Rosmerta go behind the bar, and her way to getting Ginny's butterbeer she tapped Ron on the shoulder. Ginny couldn't hear what she said – the place was too noisy – but she did notice Madame Rosmerta nod in Ginny's direction. Ginny quickly turned her head away from the direction of the bar, but saw Ron look her way out of the corner of her eye. He soon made his way over to Ginny and sat down across from her.

"I feel so unloved, Ron," sobbed Ginny, faking tears.

"Ginny . . ."

"I can't believe you would want to talk to some guy instead of your only sister!" she continued to feign crying.

"Ginny, now, come on, act your age, won't you?" scolded her brother. Ginny stopped "sobbing" immediately.

"Fine then," she pouted. Madame Rosmerta returned with two butterbeers and placed one in front of Ginny and the other in front of Ron, along with two menus. Ginny picked hers up and opened it.

"What can I get you two to eat?"MadameRosmertaasked.

"I'm not really sure . . . what do you want, Ron?" asked Ginny.

"What I've been getting since sixth year. We'll have a large pepperoni pizza, please," said Ron, without even glancing at his menu, which still lay closed in front of him.

"Okay then, I suppose that will do," said Ginny, closing her menu and handing it to Madame Rosmerta. Ron did the same.

"One pepperoni pizza it is, then. I'll be right back," she said, and walked away with their menus.

"That was a quick decision," Ginny commented.

"What can I say? I love pizza," he replied. Ginny just laughed.

xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx

AN: Well, there it is. Oh, and if anyone caught it, there was a little link in here between this story and Malfoy's Twin. Personal shout-outs next chapter to anyone who guesses correctly and doesn't cheat!

xXx SpicySugar xXx


	2. Discovery

AN: Back again! Here's the next installment!

xXx WARNING!! WARNING!! If you are any of the following:

. . . Prone to cry very easily

. . . A die-hard Ginny-fan

. . . Hate anything angsty

Then I would highly recommend that you leave this story immediately. If you feel brave enough, then carry on, but don't say that I didn't warn you . . . xXx

xXx xXx xXx xXx xXx xXx xXx

Later that night, as Ginny walked around her room, de-robing and changing into a nightgown, she thought about all that her and her brother had talked about that evening. Mostly just catching up on each other's lives, but as they were leaving, Ron had asked her if she would come to Fred and George's birthday party the next evening. She said that she would be delighted to, and was expected at the Burrow at 6:00. She was very excited about seeing her whole family together again, and found herself humming as she turned out the lights in her house except for her bedroom one with a flick of her wand. With a second flick she locked all of her outside doors. She was just about to climb into her bed when she sensed something . . . something very strange. She quickly turned around and gasped.

"What the . . .?!"

xXx (next day) xXx

Fred and George Weasley both rolled their eyes as they watched their mother bustle about the kitchen.

"Mum, we're only turning 25, there's no need to make such a big deal out of it," complained Fred.

"Yeah, you must have invited everyone we know and some we _don't_ know, plus their entire familes, to this thing," groaned George.

'Now, you two well know that turning 25 is a milestone age! It shows you're well into society, that you've_ matured_," she said, giving them both a hard glare. The twins exchanged glances. She had never _truly_ gotten over the fact that they currently owned a joke shop.

"Hello, all!" The three occupants of the kitchen turned to see Ron striding cheerfully through the kitchen door. Mrs. Weasley stopped monitoring the charmed knife cutting vegetables and the charmed sponge that was doing dishes and rushed over to Ron, giving him a huge hug.

"Ron, oh, how've you been?" she asked, letting go of him after a few seconds.

"Just fine, Mum. I invited Ginny, like you asked, and she should be here around 6:00," replied Ron.

"Hey Ronniekins!" chorused the twins. Ron answered with a rather menacing look, and then dropped his cloak by the stairs.

xXx

By 6:30, everyone at the party (which, to Fred and George, seemed to be half of the wizarding world) was slightly worried about Ginny. She was _never_ late. Mrs. Weasley was currently kneeling by the fireplace, her head in the fire, seeing if Ginny was at home. A few moments later she pulled back out again.

"She wasn't answering my consistent yelling for her, so either she's not home or she's preoccupied with something else. I'm apparating over to see what the trouble is," stated Mrs. Weasley. Ron, however, had a strong feeling in his stomach that his mother shouldn't be the one going over there. He didn't know where it was coming from, but he objected nonetheless.

"No, Mum, you have to stay here and keep watch over the party. I'll go," he offered.

"I don't know Ron . . ."

"Really, Mum, I have no problem with it. Let me go instead, all right?" pleaded Ron. That feeling in his stomach had just gotten much stronger.

"Well, I suppose so. Go ahead, then," said Mrs. Weasley, and Ron apparated on the spot.

He appeared outside Ginny's front door, and he rang the doorbell. When no one answered, he tried to open the door, but it was locked. He then unlocked the door with the charm that Ginny had created for it, opened it, and stepped inside the house, now more nervous then ever. Although he tried to tell himself that she might have forgotten about the party and was off somewhere else, something in his mind told him that wasn't so. He walked into the foyer and lightly closed the door behind him.

"Ginny?" he called loudly. No answer. He walked into the kitchen, neat and prim as it always was.

"Ginny?" he tried again, louder. Still no answer. The house was very quiet. Too quiet. He wandered over to the staircase and again called her name up them.

"_Ginny_!" he shouted. Still, again, no answer. He jogged up the steps and looked in each room, and with each one found no one inside. He looked to the end of the hallway and saw that there was a light shining from underneath her closed bedroom door. He walked up to it, and, with a hand shaking with relief of the fact that she _must_ be home, knocked on the door.

"Ginny? It's me, Ron, can I come in?" But, as with every other time, she did not answer. He gulped and opened the door. He looked around the room. The overhead light was on, and the bed was turned down. It looked as if she was about to go to bed, even though it was only 6:30 in the evening. He looked over towards her connected bathroom, and saw that the door was open and the light was off. He strode over to it and turned the light on, but there was nothing out of the ordinary in there. Now totally puzzled, he turned around, looking at the floor. He thought he saw something at the very edge of her closet door which he knew to be a walk-in closet. He couldn't make out what the substance on the carpet was, though, and walked over to it to get a closer look. He looked down at it, and noticed it was a very dark red color. He gulped.

The color of blood.

He breathed in and out, very quickly, very heavily, and very raggedly. His mouth had suddenly gone dry. He knew that there was nothing else to do but open the door, and that is why, with a hand shaking so badly he could hardly direct it, he gripped the doorknob, turned it, and pulled the door open. The sight that met his eyes made him drop to his knees and start sobbing uncontrollably.

There, sprawled on the floor, lying in a pool of blood, and very clearly dead, was Ginny.

"No . . ." he sobbed. "No! No, no, no, no, _NO_!" he shouted. "No, Ginny, please, come back!" he ranted, although knowing perfectly well that no amount of chanting and tears would bring her back. He sat there a few minutes, his head in his hands, bawling like a baby.

"Damn it, Ginny!" he cried. "When Harry and I saved you in second year I _promised_ to never let anything happen to you again! _I swore it!_" he yelled through sobs to her corpse as he took his hands off of his face. This time he noticed things that he hadn't noticed before. There were dark bruises on her neck, her face was wrapped in some sort of plastic substance, and there were two large stab marks in her chest where at least a 12-inch long knife had plunged through her flesh. Ron could scarcely breathe as he helplessly pictured what must have happened to her. Someone had tried to strangle her, but when they couldn't do it by hand they wrapped her face in plastic so she would suffocate, and then, just to make sure she was dead, they had stabbed her, then shoved her into her own closet. If Ron had been thinking clearly enough, he would have been able to deduce that either a serioualy deranged wizard without a wand had killed her, or, more likely, a muggle. However, he _wasn't_ thinking very clearly at that moment, so all he did was kneel there and cry until he could cry no more, and even then he simply sat there, and even worked up the courage to hold her stiff hand, and while he wasn't crying, he was making loud, dry sobs. Something, however, interrupted his grieving.

"Ron?" called a female voice. Ron recognized it to be Hermione's, and jumped up from the floor with a start. He could hear Hermione coming up the steps, and he quickly dashed out of Ginny's bedroom to meet her in the hallway before she could get to Ginny's bedroom door.

"Ron, oh there you are! We were all getting worried at why you and Ginny hadn't come back yet, so Mrs. Weasely sent me over to see what was going on." Hermione paused, looking at Ron's tear-stained face. "Is everything all right? Where's Ginny?" she inquired. Ron struggled to hold back new tears as he spoke.

"No, Hermione, no, everything is _not_ all right," he said, as calmly as he could, which wasn't very. "And Ginny -" he stopped in mid-sentence to take a few raggety breaths, "Ginny - won't be coming back to the party."

"Heavens, Ron, what could have happened to make you this upset?" asked Hermione, now sounding extremely concerned.

"Ginny - Ginny -" Ron couldn't seemed to get the words out of his mouth.

"Ginny _what_ Ron?" demanded Hermione, now very worried herself.

"Ginny - Ginny's - she's - she's _dead_!" exclaimed Ron, and broke out once more into hysterical tears.

"She's - are you sure, Ron?" asked Hermione in a shaky voice, and he noticed tears coming to her eyes, as well.

"Well Hermione, why don't you come and see for yourself?" he asked, although it was very incomprehendable, because of how loud his sobs were. He then stalked into the bedroom, Hermione behind him, and pointed in the direction of the closet. Hermione walked over to it, but Ron couldn't bear the thought of seeing Ginny again, so he stayed a fair distance from it with his back turned. He heard Hermione scream out "_NO!_" just as he had, and then he heard her loud sobs. He mustered up the bravery to turn around and go comfort her. He knelt by her side and put his arms around her shoulders, and they both simply sat there, both sobbing for several minutes, until Hermione spoke.

"I - I suppose we should go back and - and - and tell the others, be - before they send someone else over," she said, trying to regain her composure and wiping away her tears, Ron doing the same.

"Right," was all he said.

"I - I don't think I have enough concentration to apparate, though . . ." she said worriedly, sniffling.

"Here, take my hand," said Ron, wiping away what were, hopefully, the last of his tears, and taking out his wand. Seconds later, they were kneeling not on Ginny's bedroom carpet, but floor of the Weasley living room, surrounded by worried guests.

xXx xXx xXx xXx xXx xXx xXx xXx xXx

AN: I'll have you all know that I was sent to tears writing this chapter - I certainly didn't enjoy it one bit. But I feel as if I have to write it, for a couple reasons. Firstly, I was feeling a calling to write a mystery, and secondly, this experience of Ron's actually happened to one of my mom's friends, and when she told me about it I couldn't get over it, so I figured the best way to get it out of my system was to tell others about it. So, this is BASED ON A TRUE STORY. I'm terribly sorry if I made anyone cry, but remember, I DID warn you. R&R everyone.

Oh, and also, I have added and "Announcements" section in my bio, so I would suggest you check on that every once in a while. And check out my new Xanga account, too! My user name is SpicySugar9590.


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